


Every Night Is About You

by gettinyinggywithit



Category: Gintama
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettinyinggywithit/pseuds/gettinyinggywithit
Summary: I want to be your last, great love. — on Gintoki and waiting
Relationships: Sakata Gintoki/Tsukuyo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	Every Night Is About You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr, before watching Tsukuyo in the show — but I already kinda shipped them

After it all: there will only be heartbeats and breaths.

Under his ear, he will count the drum in her chest, slow and steady, patient, serene, until it loses its rhythm and splutters out of control, until it picks up and races and _thuds_ against his head, pounding away like it will leap straight out of her body and present itself in his hands. She thinks perhaps it would do so.

She will count his breaths, precious and deep, coming from this great tree which has sprouted so many branches and leaves; she thinks that she can only hold on to the trunk, and shudder, and weather the storm. He will say, _I love this sound you make, like this_ — and she will make it again, and again, and again

Yes, there is a promise between their eyes — _there will be you and me_

He thinks he would like to lay her out on the futon in the dark and say nothing, just listen to those overactive heartbeats, and smile and maybe tease her with his smile, because when he does the sounds get louder

and it's not a warning drum, it's not a warrior anthem; it's every splendid atom in her body vibrating with joy.

Once it's all done, when Edo is safe, when the kids don't need him anymore, he can come to her with his palms up in supplication, and she will peel off his layers one by one and she will breathe fire into his face, and Gintoki will lie back and think of blue skies and the tips of crunchy autumn leaves.

It will not be next year, or even in the next five years, but the time will come; they have assured it with tilts in their eyes, with fingertips on lips, with teeth against palms — _I will be your last, great love_.

.

.

_Fin._

Thank you.


End file.
